Not Quite Sure
by OnlyOneLover
Summary: Chris Colfer and Mark Salling share a moment together after a show. Mark needs someone who knows what it's like to be unsure of oneself to get him through a difficult time. Rated T for possible future scenes of intimacy.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey guys! So after the amazing response you guys had to Pillow Chat, I decided to do a one shot in which Chris Colfer and Mark Salling share a sweet moment together. It's slightly romantic, but with all the undertones of a beautiful friendship. I hope you enjoy it! Please leave a comment if you have any feedback! Oh, and this takes place when Chris was still under 21, and Mark has a totally fictional girlfriend =)**

**This will be in two or three parts – probably two =)**

**Not Quite Sure**

Even though he knew it was coming, Chris gasped as he splashed the ice-cold water onto his face. It was much needed, though, after doing a show in the ninety-three-degree-and-humid outdoor amphitheatre. Eyes closed and features still distorted from the cold water shock, Chris undid the first four or five buttons of his white, long-sleeved shirt. He ran his hands under the faucet once again, wetting them and proceeding to spread the cold water around to the back of his neck and then beneath the fabric of his shirt and onto his shoulders.

He turned off the faucet and sighed contentedly as the pleasant silence of the empty dressing room washed over him. Being twenty years old in a friendly gang with eleven over-twenty-ones, he was used to staying behind after concerts and going back to the hotel alone. True, it was sometimes a little sad being the only one who couldn't go out. But on the other hand, he spent so much time with them all-day-every-day that it really wasn't too big of a sacrifice. And occasionally (in this instance, for example), he enjoyed the time for relaxation.

As he leaned onto the sink counter, eyes still closed and head hanging, Chris felt cold water drip from his soaking-wet face, neck, and shoulders and run down his torso, but he didn't mind. In this heat, it was welcomed.

"You meditating or something?"

The voice made Chris's heart jump in surprise. He looked up and saw a familiar reflection in the mirror.

"Oh," he breathed, smiling as he watched his friend approach him from the dressing room door, "Hey, Mark."

"Hey, man."

Mark Salling walked up to the counter on which Chris was leaning and leaned in to the mirror, rubbing his eyes. "Is it possible to be allergic to whatever-the-hell they put on our faces before we go onstage?" he asked with a chuckle.

Chris laughed, turned around, and hoisted himself up to sit on the counter right next to where Mark was massaging his eyes in the mirror. "It's called foundation, Mark. And not as far as I know, but you never can tell. Lemme see your eyes," he offered, placing a hand beneath Mark's chin and guiding his face away from the mirror.

Mark let his hands down. He squinted and blinked a few times as Chris examined his eyes. Even in the dim light of the dressing room, Chris could see that his eyes were slightly pink and just a little puffier than normal.

"Huh…" Chris murmured, letting his hand drop back into his own lap as Mark turned back to the mirror.

"I know, right?"

"Are you allergic to anything else?"

"Strawberries," he said, "But as far as I know I haven't touched any."

"Here," Chris said, hopping off of the counter and lifting his backpack off of the floor, "I have some Benadryl in here somewhere… there you are…"

After rummaging through his backpack, Chris produced a travel-sized canister of the tiny pink pills and handed it to Mark.

"Aw man, thank you…"

"No problem." Chris hoisted himself back onto the counter. "Is this why you didn't go out tonight?" he asked. Mark wasn't usually one to stay inside when the after-show shenanigans took place.

"Yeah, pretty much," he said. Groggily, he took a plastic cup from the counter and filled it with water, then swallowed the regular dosage of two tablets in one large gulp. "Also," he continued, after tossing the empty cup into the wastebasket beneath the counter, "I just didn't really feel like being… I don't know… real social, you know? I mean, I love the gang to death," he added quickly, leaning his back against the counter by Chris's seat, "But sometimes you have those days, you know?"

Chris nodded, understanding. "I know exactly what you mean."

The two remained still through a few moments of relaxed, comfortable silence. Finally, Chris began to speak again, softly, when a thought occurred to him. "Are you… all right, Mark?" he asked, tentatively. "You didn't really seem… all _there_ today."

Mark sighed heavily. The expression on his face told Chris that he had known Chris would ask sooner or later, but also that he had secretly _hoped _Chris would ask. This was something that he truly needed to talk about.

"Alice and I broke up."

It took Chris a moment to process this; it had been put out there so suddenly. When it did, though, it hit his heart hard. Being the hopeless romantic that he is, Chris hated hearing about breakups. He opened his mouth to say something, and then closed it after a thought entered his head: he wanted to say more than "I'm so sorry." He wanted to say something more meaningful...

Almost without thinking, Chris said softly, "Mark… if there's anything I can do for you… anything I can do to help… to make the… the hurt go away… please tell me. You're one of my best friends."

Slowly, Mark turned his head to look Chris in the eyes. Chris was relieved and filled with hope to see that Mark, though his eyes were watery, was giving Chris a weak, yet sincere smile.

"Thank you, Chris," he said, nodding in gratitude, "That… that means a lot to me."

Chris returned the smile, and Mark pushed himself away from the counter, and then turned around to face the mirror once again. "The silver lining," he began, looking at himself in the mirror, but still talking to Chris, "is that it couldn't have been more… right."

He paused for a moment, then took a deep breath and continued. "We talked through it. We both knew it was coming; it was just a compatibility thing, you know? We're two very different people. But…" he laughed to himself, "I know we'll still be buds. We were great friends before the relationship, and…" he looked at Chris, smiling as a single tear ran down his cheek, "I know we'll be friends after."

Chris, pleasantly surprised and proud of Mark's maturity, but not knowing what to say, reached out and grasped the twenty-eight-year-old's shoulder comfortingly.

Mark began to say something that Chris could not make out, then he stammered a bit, until finally he laughed, cursed, then said, "Can I just have a Chris hug?"

Chris shared the laugh. Once again he hopped off of the counter, and then wrapped his arms affectionately around Mark.

With his hands against Mark's back, Chris felt the slight curve of a familiar thin wire snaking beneath the fabric of his friend's t-shirt. Glancing upward, Chris noted the small black device still attached to Mark's ear. Chuckling as he pulled out of the embrace, Chris smirked, "Your uh… mic is still on, in case you didn't notice."

Instantly Mark's hand flew to his ear. "Oh good Lord, I'm a wreck…" he sighed, smirking in amusement.

"Want me to get it?" Chris offered, slowly moving to face Mark's back. Like any performer, he was all too familiar with the fun activity of un-taping mics at the end of the night; a skill nearly impossible to do on one's own.

"Thanks, man." In one swift movement, Mark pulled his t-shirt over head, then quickly folded it and placed it on the counter in front of him.

A few more moments of silence passed between the two as Chris's noticeably light, caring fingers gently removed the many strips of flesh-colored tape that held the wire to Mark's back. This silence, however, was slightly less comfortable than the first. As much as Chris hated to admit it to himself, when he processed the situation he was currently in, he felt as though ten butterflies had been set loose in the pit of his stomach.

Chris couldn't have been more comfortable in his own skin; _that_ wasn't what made him nervous. What made him nervous was that Mark was one of his best friends, and he was well aware of what even thoughts, _fleeting _thoughts of romance, could do to a friendship. Little did he know that his worries were shared.

"Hey, Chris?" asked Mark, as Chris's hands approached the middle of Mark's bare back.

"Mmhm?"

"Can I ask you something… personal? Like… it's pretty personal…"

Chris hands paused for a moment, and for a fleeting second Mark was afraid that he had made Chris nervous or offended him in some way. Almost instantly, though, he was reassured when Chris's hands continued to slowly and carefully remove the strips of tape. "Yeah," Chris said, kindly, "Sure, go for it."

Mark took a deep breath, causing his shoulder blades to shift, the muscles in his back to tense, Chris's breath to catch in his chest and his heartbeat to quicken. _Don't do this, _Chris told himself, closing his eyes momentarily, _Not with Mark… not with one of your best friends… _

"How did you… how did you _know_… for sure…" Mark stammered, then finally said, simply and in a smooth, coherent sentence, "At what point in your life did you know for sure that you were gay?"

Chris, caught completely off guard, jumping to conclusions in his head, mentally scolding himself for doing so, and trying as hard as he could not to fumble with the tape and wire on Mark's back and give himself away, stared straight at the back of Mark's head, anxiously trying to calm himself down.

"I…" he stammered.

"I'm sorry," Mark interjected, "I shouldn't have…"

"No! No," Chris said reassuringly as he undid the last strip of tape and pulled the mic and wire out of Mark's back pocket, "It's fine, I… I don't mind at… at all."

Chris looked over Mark's bare shoulder and into the mirror in front of them, meeting Mark's dark eyes in its reflection.

**To be continued soon! Thank you very much for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys! Sorry for the SUPER long wait. New year of college = lots of homework! Here's part two! =) **

**Not Quite Sure – Part 2**

"I guess…" Chris began, placing the microphone on the counter and still looking at his friend in the mirror, "I guess I knew _for sure _when I was about… I don't know… fifteen. That was when I started… dreaming in greater _detail _about my future. I realized that in those dreams, that person waking up next to me every morning, sharing a life with me… was a man."

Mark just looked at him, his face stoic, but (Chris thought) slightly sad. Or maybe, confused. He wasn't quite sure.

"Why do you ask…? Mark?" Chris said, softly.

Mark heaved a sigh, his shoulder blades shifting again. Chris tried hard to keep his eyes strictly on Mark's face.

"I guess I'm… not quite sure… about… who I'm looking for… anymore."

Chris's expression changed from concerned to anxious, and he said quickly, "Mark, just because things didn't work out with one girl doesn't mean that - "

Mark cut him off. "It wasn't just her, Chris. With a lot of my past relationships, there's just been no… _fire_. I mean, I hear my guy friends talk about how crazy they are about their girlfriends, how much they love them, and I… to be honest, I don't think I've felt that yet. If love is as amazing as everyone says it is, I _know _I haven't felt it yet."

Mark began turning around to face his bewildered friend, who as the seconds ticked by was growing more and more nervous… unsure of where this was going.

"Mark..." he whispered, only to be calmly interrupted.

"Chris… I know I haven't felt true love yet. I know it. But…" he took a step forward, and Chris surprised himself by not taking a step back. "But I think that in these past few months, I've felt something… about someone… and it's the closest thing to true love I've ever felt."

Chris could feel his heartbeat in his throat. Ten million thoughts zoomed in and out of his mind, thoughts that confused him, aroused him, and terrified him to no end. And when Mark reached out to take Chris's hands in his own, Chris was certain that this would turn out to be nothing more than a dream; a cruel trick of the universe.

Chris's hands were wet in Mark's – not because of the water, but because he was now sweating in nervousness.

Mark, not taking his eyes away from Chris's, uttered one more syllable… "Chris…"

And after that, Chris could not hold himself back any longer. In his mind, there were two possible scenarios. This was either real, or it was a dream. If he decided not to do anything, and it was indeed real, he'd spend the rest of his life wishing he had. If he decided to do what his mind and heart were telling him to do, and it was a dream, then yes, he would wake up and curse nature for playing such a terrible trick. But if it were real…

Chris pulled one hand loose of Mark's grasp and touched the skin on his stomach, dragging his delicate touch all the way up to Mark's neck, then holding his sweaty hand against it. Mark, in turn, wrapped his hands around Chris's waist, snaking them slightly beneath his shirt and holding his back tightly.

And before the two could fully comprehend what was happening, Mark had pulled Chris's hips up against his own, and their lips got closer and closer until they could feel each other's breath. Then, finally, they touched.

Chris immediately wrapped his arms around Mark's neck and pushed up against his hips, his heartbeat pounding against Mark's own, which was pounding equally as fast. He caressed the back of Mark's neck while Mark's arms continued to make their way slowly up Chris's back, beneath the slightly damp white shirt.

They continued to kiss and touch, and eventually, Chris could no longer form a coherent thought. Vaguely he realized that he wanted to feel something else as Mark's hands explored Chris's skin beneath his shirt.

Moaning as Mark tenderly dragged his tongue along his bottom lip, Chris kept one arm fastened around Mark's neck while the other made its way back to his own shirt. Blindly he pulled at the buttons, and in another moment his wet button-down was open. Eagerly he closed the space between Mark's body and his, moaning again at the heat of the skin-on-skin contact.

Chris heard a moan escape Mark's lips as well. The contact seemed to have made him more eager as well, and they pressed their bodies together with more pressure and more passion.

With an aggression that only made Chris want him more, Mark slid his hands from the small of Chris's back all the way down to the backs of his thighs and lifted the boy up. Instinctively Chris latched his arms around Mark's neck and hoisted himself up so that Mark was carrying him, and he let him carry him back just a few feet until together they fell unto the couch at the other end of the room.

Mark lay down on the couch and Chris lay on top of him, one hand against the hot skin of his heaving chest and the other held firmly against the side of his neck. Their lips met again, and their legs began to intertwine as they writhed with sensual desire.

Just as Chris was beginning to desire even more skin-on-skin contact, Mark's hands found their way back into Chris's open shirt, starting at his hips and working their way up his sides. As they came beneath his arms Mark moved them to Chris's back and ran them over his constantly moving shoulder blades, then quickly back to Chris's front and onto his chest. Mark gave the slightest push against him, and their lips separated, Chris moving back just a few inches and looking into Mark's eyes.

Their eyes locked. Without a word, Mark's hands moved from Chris's bare chest up to his shoulders, where they proceeded to grasp the collar of his shirt and pull backwards. Mark slowed when he saw fear in Chris's eyes, and waited for some sign that would tell him what to do. Answering his question, Chris lifted himself off of Mark, and Mark sat up as well. The fear in Chris's eyes remained, but it was accompanied by something else. Something that told Mark that Chris was ready for this.

In one swift motion, Mark pulled the white, long-sleeved shirt down off of Chris's arms and let it fall into the floor. Self-consciously, Chris brought his arms in, holding them over his midriff. He was just about to break eye-contact with Mark when Mark placed a hand beneath his chin and kept their eyes together. He gave Chris a small, comforting smile.

With glassy eyes, Chris returned the smile, and allowed Mark to bring their lips together once again. Before Chris knew what was happening, the two were lying down on the couch again, this time, side by side. It could have been several hours, several minutes, or maybe only a few seconds – neither Chris nor Mark was sure – but eventually, Chris's hands had traveled from Mark's shoulders, down his chest and stomach, and below the beltline of his jeans, where they began to stroke him over the fabric.

It wasn't long before, for the first time in his life, Chris was being touched in the same way. Somehow Mark had managed to shift so that Chris was lying on his back on the couch, and Mark was propped up above him, applying pressure to the up-and-down motion against Chris's jeans while Chris tried desperately not to make a sound.

It proved impossible, though. And as his moans became louder, less suppressible, the pressure became stronger, the speed quicker.

Before completely losing himself to a wave of physical and emotional adrenaline, Chris brought his arms (which had been raised, writhing against the couch cushion on which he lay) back up to Mark's neck and pulled him into a kiss once again. This time, Mark placed a hand against Chris's cheek.

That's when he stopped.

He slowly backed away. What he saw only confirmed what the wetness on his cheek had already told him: Chris had started to cry.

"Chris," he said, over his and his friend's uncontrollable panting, "Chris… oh, God… please… Chris, I'm so sorry..."

"N-no, no, I'm…" Mark lifted himself off of Chris and got into a sitting position on the couch while Chris followed suit, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand and stammering, "I'm fine, Mark, I'm fine, you didn't do anything wrong. I just… I just…"

Chris's voice and body were both shaking. Hurriedly, Mark reached onto the floor and picked up Chris's shirt, then moved in close and draped it over his back. Chris gave Mark a grateful smile and pulled the shirt back on, but not bothering to button it. As both men caught their breath, Mark draped an arm over Chris's shoulders and pulled him in close. Chris moved in gratefully, resting against his friend before taking a deep breath and continuing. "I've just, never really done… _anything_ like that before," he said. "Like, _anything,"_ he added with a tiny laugh.

"Well, if you don't count women..." Mark smirked down at Chris who began to grin as Mark finished, "Me neither."

Both laughed, and Mark was relieved to see Chris smiling again. A few seconds of silence passed between them, until Chris broke it in a voice so small it was barely audible.

"Hey, Mark?" he asked.

"Mmhm?"

"What exactly… where exactly… do we go from here?"

Unsure of how to answer, Mark felt himself clam up. When he was honest with himself, he really didn't know where he wanted to go from this point. The only thing he knew for certain was that what he was feeling for Chris was unlike anything he had ever felt before. But, unfortunately, that didn't mean that he suddenly had it all figured out.

Much to his relief, Chris continued, softly, "I mean, don't worry – I'm not like expecting us to go public and get married and be the gay poster couple…" he and Mark both laughed. "Heck, I'm not even expecting us to, you know, date or anything like that. I mean, I'm not going to lie to you: that'd be… amazing… but I know how weird and, and confusing this all is. So I just… want you to know that I'm okay. You know, with whatever you decide to, to do."

For the first time in who-knew-how-long, Mark was breathing easy. As he looked down into the kind, compassionate eyes of his friend, he had never felt more understood. He smiled back at Chris.

"Thanks, Chris," he said. "I know you'll, you'll understand when I say that at this point, I still don't know exactly what to do. But I want you to know that your happiness and, and… security… matters just as much to me as my own does… probably more. And I would never use you, or hurt you in any way. You know that, don't you?"

Eyes shining again in the dim light, Chris nodded against Mark's shoulder, smiling.

Mark smiled back. "Good," he said, before squeezing Chris affectionately with the arm still draped over his shoulders. Mark felt Chris's body relax in his embrace, and watched as the boy closed his eyes and breathed a contented sigh.

"Oh and, for the record," Mark whispered, causing Chris to open his eyes and look amusedly back up at his friend one more time, "Whether it ends up being me or some other lucky bastard, you're going to be one incredible boyfriend."

**The end! Finally! Haha this story has been sitting in my Docs forever. It feels fab to finally get it out there! Hope you all enjoyed it! =)**


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